Lost It All
by Team Damon
Summary: Cursed and banished by Odin to the very realm that he tried to enslave only days earlier, Loki falls to Earth, angry, helpless, and utterly lost. But he's not alone, and he will find his way back to Asgard, one wretched way or another. Post-Avengers, non-TDW compliant as of now
1. Prologue

Prologue

So close. He came so close. So close just to fall, just to end up here. In front of his false family, the whole hypocritical, sentimental lot of them, looking at him like they gave a damn when he knew full well they didn't.

It was almost humorous. Here he was, finally free of the loathsome muzzle for the first time in a full day, standing before Odin as he sat on his throne. The very throne Loki himself had once sat upon. The throne he _should_ be sitting upon but never would again.

Odin looked down upon him with great sadness in his eye. Off to the side was Thor, to his left, staring at Loki with so much pathetic emotion that it made Loki even more nauseous than he already was. To his right was the only person present that Loki could not bring himself to meet the gaze of - Frigga. Try as he may to force himself to despise and loathe her the way he did Thor and Odin, he simply could not do it. And he knew if he looked up and saw the disappointment and shame and yes, unconditional love - he could not deny it - in her eyes, he would _feel_. And he could not let himself feel anything other than the anger and hatred currently coursing through him so strongly that, had his powers not been useless in this room currently due to Odin's spell, it would have surely erupted in an impressively destructive outburst of magic.

_On with it_, he thought, staring anywhere he could without meeting anyone's eyes. _Enough silence. Just be done with this._

"Loki."

Odin's voice finally broke the silence. He sounded weary. Sad. Grave. Old.

"I have failed you."

Loki's eyes snapped up to meet those of the man who had raised him. Thor looked up as well, equally stunned by Odin's words. Frigga, however, kept her eyes on Loki, the only one in the room who was already aware of Odin's decision and his reasoning for it.

"I have made you who you are today. My foolish errors, my mistaken notions of molding you into a bridge between two realms. I set you up to fail. I set you up to fall into a pit of jealousy and failed ambition. I, and I alone, take responsibility for your actions on Midgard."

"Father," Thor's rumbling voice interrupted.

"Silence," Odin quickly hissed. He then rose from his throne, never taking his eyes off of Loki as he descended to meet him. He stopped only about a foot away from him before he spoke again. "But this does not absolve you of your crimes, Loki."

_Of course it wouldn't_. Loki continued to stare back, silently and defiantly, waiting for his sentence to be given.

"Your family loves you," Odin said, his voice soft and full of emotion that Loki refused to believe in. "It always will."

"I have no family," Loki spat back. He could no longer hold back his disgust.

"Brother, listen to -"

Loki turned his eyes to Thor swiftly and cut him off. "And I have no brother."

"You may believe that to be true," Odin said. "But you will not always."

Loki looked up at Odin again, his green eyes hard and angry. He didn't reply. There was no point.

"I have decided," the All-Father said, sadness twinging the authoritative tone in his voice, "that to atone for your crimes against the citizens of Midgard, you will be cast out and forced to live among those you hate. Your powers will be limited and used only for the welfare of others. You will learn humility and the value of life. You will learn to respect those mortals whom you consider to be inferior to yourself. When you have learned these things and have recognized and acknowledged the error of your ways... only then shall you be returned to Asgard. To your family."

Loki was past the point of anger. He could feel wrath pulsating within him, swirling through his veins, dancing dangerously with the magic that he couldn't use, brewing like one of Thor's lightning storms, only so much more dangerous.

Odin's large, weathered hand came to rest just over Loki's heart. "I hereby limit your powers."

Then his hand unexpectedly came to rest upon the top of Loki's head. He gasped, not from the contact, but from the sudden constricting in his chest from his powers being partially drained from his being. He looked up at Odin with wide eyes, suddenly fearful of what might come next. "I curse you to feel the pain and the horror of each innocent human whose life you took. You will feel what they felt, see what they saw, and feel the pain and grief of the loved ones you ripped them away from."

Another shockwave hit him, this time tearing through his mind, a chorus of screams and tears and pictures of faces, some he recognized and some he did not. Then it was over as quickly as it had begun, leaving him shaking and even more wide-eyed.

He looked at Frigga for the first time since being brought back to Asgard. His heart thudded, showing signs of life for the first time since he'd let go of Thor's hand and allowed himself to be swallowed up by the abyss of space and time more than a year ago. She was crying, looking upon him with the love of a heartbroken mother who would love her son regardless of who gave birth to him or what wrongs he committed. He gazed back at her as a son who could not, would not, forgive her for years of deception, and yet hated himself for bringing upon her the pain that he could see in her watery eyes.

Odin's voice forced Loki to looked back up to him. His large hand now gripped his scepter. "This is your second chance, Loki. If you refuse to see the error of your ways, then I shall have no choice but to strip you fully of your powers and remand you to the Midgardians to prosecute you as they see fit."

Loki opened his mouth, still reeling from the barrage of overwhelmingly horrible sensations that were pulsing like aftershocks from within. "How... how long?" he choked out.

Odin's eye glistened as he paused. "One year."

Then he raised his scepter. A flash of blinding golden light erupted around it, and the last thing Loki saw were the sad and yet idiotically hopeful eyes of Thor as their gazes met one last time before the light encircled him and sent him hurtling out of the realm.

When the light evaporated and left only empty space where Loki had stood, Frigga let herself dissolve into the tears that she'd been holding back. Thor hurried to her and pulled her into his arms as Odin stood and stared at the absence of the son he'd just lost for the second time.

His heart was heavy and burdened. He would always feel responsible for Loki, for the terrible crimes that he'd committed, for the monster that lurked within the son that he had always loved deeply, despite what Loki believed to be true today. All the years of favoring Thor, of leading Loki to believe that he could ascend to the throne when Odin knew all along that he would not, all of it weighed heavy on the king as he dared to hope that this last effort to fix his mistakes would work.

Under the din of Frigga's soft crying and Thor's murmured reassurances came Odin's whisper as he looked up and drew in a deep breath. "Come back to us, Loki."


	2. Chapter 1

"Kayleigh - _Kayleigh_!"

On the outskirts of a small town in Kansas called Bentonville, a young woman named Willow chased after her two year old niece in the small front yard of her mother's condo. The little girl was a whirl of long blonde hair and pink sneakers as she scampered away giggling, holding a handful of worms in her tiny hand, and for a moment, Willow forgot that her calling after the girl would do her no good.

Kayleigh was headed towards the empty, large, open field that separated the condos from a small apartment complex on the other side of it. It was oftentimes her mission to get to the forbidden area - forbidden because mostly rodents and the occasional group of pot-smoking teens frequented the field - but Willow always caught her before she could cross the row of dying bushes that marked the border between the yard and field.

"Kayleigh," Willow sighed as she bent down and grabbed the child's arm and turned her around. The little girl smiled, still clutching the worms, her blue eyes alight with mischief as Willow signed to her "no" and motioned to the ground. Kayleigh shook her head, and Willow narrowed her hazel eyes and signed "down". Kayleigh continued to grin but dropped the worms at last.

Willow shook her head but smiled at the little girl as she batted the dirt off of her little hand and signed "in" and gestured towards the house. Kayleigh then furiously shook her head, and Willow sighed again - it was always a battle to get the child back inside after playing - and grabbed her hand.

Half-leading, half-dragging the protesting child towards the house, Willow was trying not to get annoyed when a sudden earth-shaking, ear-drum bursting boom sounded out from behind them. Kayleigh jumped and grabbed Willow's leg, and Willow turned and gaped at the field, seeing nothing that would have caused the boom, as she instinctively hit the ground with her niece.

Kayleigh squealed and cried, and for a moment, Willow forgot the potential danger of the situation and had a short, hopeful moment of thinking that Kayleigh had heard the crash. Then she realized that the deaf child would have only felt it, and let the hope go.

"The hell was _that_?"

Willow picked up Kayleigh into her arms and got to her feet, shaking her long auburn hair out of her face and glancing towards the condo's front door, seeing her older sister rushing out of it.

"It's alright, Mel," Willow said as Kayleigh clutched her shoulders. "I have no idea what it was, I didn't even see anything."

"Sounded like a bomb," Mel said, her short brown hair disheveled, having been jarred awake from a nap by the sound.

Willow shrugged and put Kayleigh down when she started wriggling. "You can go on back to sleep. We're fine."

Mel paused but started to turn back towards the front door. "Okay. Sorry I'm so tired today."

Willow turned back and gave her sister a look that said _oh please, go get your butt back to bed_. Mel smiled and Willow turned her eyes back to the field when the door swung closed.

There was smoke rising from the dry, brown grass that covered the field, and it distracted Willow just long enough for Kayleigh to get a running start for the field, which she was apparently no longer scared of.

A bobbing little head of blonde hair scampering over the bushes got Willow's attention. "Crap! Kayleigh! Kay -" she faltered, again remembering that the yelling was in vain, and ran after the child.

* * *

_His chest ached and the moisture running down his cheeks seemed to he coming from an endless well of misery, swelling up from within and running over. He was in shock, he was shaking, and his world had just been shattered and torn to pieces before his eyes, ripped away by... by what, exactly?_

_He looked down at his trembling hands, holding his palms up before his eyes. They were streaked with red and so incredibly small - they weren't his hands at all. He looked down at the body in front of him, a man who had been speared through the neck and now lay unseeing as chaos erupted around them. People were running, screaming in German, but nobody seemed to notice him or the dead man._

_His tiny hand reached up only to find a pigtail dangling from behind his ear. He was not a he at all, but a little girl who was weeping at her dead father's side. A little girl who would never be the same, who would relive this movement for the rest of her life, and who would continue to feel the pain of this unspeakably violent, terrifying, brutal loss until she took her final breath._

_Golden horns flashed by in a memory that did not belong to him. Golden horns, then a horribly gurgling cry and the thud of a body at his feet..._

With a gasp, Loki awoke. He swallowed in big breaths of air and felt his eyes ache and close against the strain of the sun beating down on them. He coughed and felt a great wave of pain sweep over his entire body, though the pain in his chest was a lingering side effect of the dream he'd awoken from.

Where was he? Why would he dream of such a thing? What was happening?

He sat up, biting back a groan, and found himself staring at a tiny little girl. Dressed in blue jeans, pink sneakers and a purple shirt, looking at him from under a thicket of bright blonde bangs.

He looked down at his own attire. Black shirt, black trousers, black shoes. Nothing else. Not a trace of green or gold. And then it hit him, all of it rushing back in a wave that left him cold and clenching his fists in anger.

"... _You will be cast out and forced to live among those you hate_..."

Yes, of course. How could he forget? He was here, on Midgard, to serve a sentence. See the "error of his ways". Atone for his sins. Become a good little false son of Odin who could then be welcomed back to Asgard and placed back under the shadow of Thor to wither away and assuage his adoptive father's guilt.

The dream made sense now. Odin had cursed him to suffer visions belonging to his victims and their families, to feel their pain as if it were his own...

"... _You will feel what they felt, see what they saw, and feel the pain and grief of the loved ones you ripped them away from."_

He looked up at the little girl again. She was still staring at him and doing something with her hands, but he couldn't tell what, and he didn't care in the slightest. He clenched his fists harder and focused on his energy, searching for that feeling within him, that hum of magic as it formed inside of his mind and ran through his veins... and he felt it. Felt it just as he always had.

Odin had claimed to limit his powers to be used solely for the welfare of others. He saw no better time to test this than right now.

He focused every bit of strength he had in his mind and body and tried to harness it, channel it, to prove wrong what he already knew to be true. He stared at the little girl and thrust out his hand.

Nothing happened.

A voice carrying through the air was getting louder and louder as it called the same thing over and over, but Loki barely noticed through his growing anger. He tried again and again to use the power he knew was inside of him, the power he could feel and yet not use, and again and again nothing happened. He was about to throw his head back and curse Odin with a great roar when a young woman suddenly appeared, blocking the sun from his view and grabbing the child in the front of him.

"My God, Kayleigh!" the girl yelled, auburn hair flying about her face as she dropped to her knees and turned the child around to face her. She was oblivious to the man staring murderously at her as he half-lay, half-sat on the ground in front of them. "You cannot not run off like that!" she exclaimed, making some sort of hand gestures as she spoke. "Do you understand me, Kayleigh?"

The girl nodded and threw herself into the woman's arms. She sighed and embraced the child, closing her eyes briefly before opening them and suddenly becoming aware of Loki.

"Oh... um... sorry..."

He glared at her as she spoke, but she didn't seem to notice, being more preoccupied with the smoke still rising from his skin and the ground around him. He was in the center of a circular design in the ground caused by his crash, and she'd obviously never seen anything like it.

"She, um... wanders off sometimes. Are you okay?"

He narrowed his eyes on her, analyzing her for the sake of fueling his own disgust. This was what he had to live among now. Simple, stupid, unremarkable humans who were little more than cattle, born to follow as they gaped and marveled at his superiority. Superiority that he still achieved even now, wearing common threads and sitting in an open field unable to harness his own powers. Even now, he thought as he watched her eyes fill with a confused but significant wonder, he was still surely the most magnificent thing she'd ever laid her pathetic eyes on in her short, meaningless life.

Without answering her, he rose to his feet and squared his shoulders, reaching his full height as she continued to kneel down, hugging the little girl to her chest.

Kneeling just as she should. Just as all of her kind should.

"Where am I, Midgardian?"

* * *

She blinked her hazel eyes at his question. What did he just call her?

"What?"

Irritation crossed his features and her confusion deepened. The ground he'd been sitting on was still smoking, the pattern of it looked like crop circles from a bad alien movie she vaguely recalled from her childhood, and this guy was talking with what sounded like an English accent.

She got to her feet then, hoisting Kayleigh on her hip, and he almost flinched when she did this, like he was offended by her standing up. _What the hell?_

"Just tell me where I am, girl."

He looked away as he said this, his jaw clenched, and she couldn't help but admire him, even if he did look royally pissed and a little unhinged. He was tall and pale and thin but not overly so, had long black hair like she'd never seen on a man before, framing a face that was strong and delicate at the same time. His eyes then met hers and she was trying to discern if they were blue or green or both when he hissed, "Answer me!"

She blinked and blurted, "Bentonville."

"North America?"

She furrowed her brows. "Kansas."

He seemed to mutter a curse under his breath and glared off into the distance. Who the hell was this guy?

"Where did you come from?" she asked, but he didn't hear her. He looked towards the crappy apartments on one side of the field and wrinkled his nose, then looked in the other direction, towards the condos.

"What's your name?"

This query got his attention. He stared at her, his eyes still full of anger, and the thought occurred to her that she should probably back off and get home rather quickly. This guy was either crazy or homeless or crazy - she was starting to really bank on crazy - and, regardless of how gorgeous he was, he looked as if he was about to attack something. And she and Kayleigh were the only somethings near him.

But then he stepped closer to her, and she stood rooted to the spot. He kept glaring at her - had she offended him in some way? - and she was frozen as he came dangerously close to invading her space. He said nothing, and continued only to stare at her like she'd committed some great wrong against him.

Then he turned on his heel and was gone, stomping off towards the condos she resided in. She watched him go as her mouth hung open slightly, having no idea what had just happened, but she had enough sense to give him a head start and put a safe distance between them before she started heading in the same direction.

Her heart was pounding - she'd been equal parts scared and intrigued, and this was hands down the most interesting thing to happen to her all year. Maybe even her whole life. Granted, that wasn't saying a lot, but all she wanted to do was sprint home and tell Mel about the impossibly hot guy that Kayleigh had found lying in the field outside of their house.

By the time she reached the condos, he'd long disappeared from her sight, but he was all she could think about as she burst into the house and exclaimed, "Mel! I have a story!"

* * *

_Bentonville, Kansas_, he seethed silently as he walked past row after row of identical housing structures. Of all the places he could have fallen, he falls _here_, in some little cesspool of a small town in the middle of nowhere, USA.

But, as angry as he was, he would not allow himself to become foolish. He was here, whether he liked it or not, and he had no way of getting out anytime soon. He'd already tried teleporting, and that was a failure. Perhaps he could only teleport if it served the welfare of others, as well. Not that that concept made any sense whatsoever, but nothing about this situation did, so why not?

He needed to find shelter. A place to hide out and regroup while he figured out his next move.

He started looking for an empty building, but each one he came across appeared to be occupied. As he searched he continued to seethe, and he decided that he would have preferred if Odin had stripped him of his full powers rather than leave them intact but only marginally usable. It was torture to feel his magic surging within him but be unable to touch it or use it for his own purposes. Perhaps that was why the old man had chosen this punishment rather than the one he'd employed with Thor - perhaps he'd designed it to be as torturous and cruel as possible.

He reached the end of the houses and found nothing. He gritted his teeth and turned around, determined to find something here and not in the shabby little pathetic apartments across the field. These houses were still unacceptable and may as well have been mere shacks being eaten by mold and insects to his Asgardian eyes, but the alternative was even worse.

A flashback from his dream managed to make him even angrier. He thought back to when Odin placed his hand over his forehead and cursed him, recalling the overwhelming sensation of it, and realized he'd felt the very same thing during the dream.

Even now he could still feel the aftershocks. He could still see the tiny blood-stained hands. Feel his body shake with tears that weren't his, feel his life being ripped apart with grief that also wasn't his.

And he didn't care. Did Odin really think that recurring nightmares would make him undergo some sort of personal rehabilitation, become sensitive and sentimental and work to make amends for his misdeeds?

The truth was, he didn't even remember murdering the little girl's father. And he'd do it again and again if it meant achieving something he wanted.

Finally, a "For Rent" sign caught his eye. He walked up to the front door and twisted the knob only to find it locked. He twisted harder, hoping to just rip the infernal thing off, but his strength failed him.

He furrowed his brows. How could this be? He had his powers, as limited as they were, so why did he not have his strength? Was he mortal? He couldn't be, because if he were, he would have no magic. Right?

Anger overcame him, and he kicked the door open.

_Odin, what have you done to me?_

* * *

Mel raised her eyebrows, sitting up on the living room couch a little straighter, looking at her younger sister incredulously. "He called you a _what_?"

Willow was smiling like an idiot, glancing over at Kayleigh playing happily with her toys on the floor before leaning forward in her armchair and replying, "Midgardian. It sounds familiar. I know I've heard that word before somewhere."

Mel's eyebrow went up even higher on her forehead. "Sure about that?"

"... No," Willow admitted somewhat sheepishly.

"And he didn't even know if he was in the United States or not?"

Willow shook her head, staring down at the ugly brown carpet under her feet, unable to get the stranger's eyes out of her head.

Suddenly Mel snapped her fingers. "Willow!"

The younger girl looked up, confused. "What?"

"I see that look on your face!"

Willow smiled despite herself and replied, "He was _really_ gorgeous! I can't help it!"

"And he sounds like a psycho!" Mel retorted. "A gorgeous psycho is still a psycho!"

"He was smoking," Willow recalled, looking back down to the carpet. "Like, actually smoking. The ground was too. And there's this weird pattern in the grass now where he was laying."

"He's probably some crackhead whose crackhead friends convinced him to go lay in the field and make a pipe bomb go off so someone would find him and think he was an alien who crashed to earth or something. Or he's just nuts. Either way, stop thinking about him."

Willow sighed and got to her feet. "No wonder you're so cranky. It's time for your pills."

"I'm not cranky!"

Willow laughed and walked out of the living room and into the bathroom between it and the kitchen, where she retrieved a pill organizer - the kind with little letters marking each day of the week - then headed back to her sister.

"Seriously, Willow," Mel said as Willow sat down on the couch by her slippered feet and popped open the box for Thursday. "I know you're 18 and I know how you must feel. But our mom's a big enough bag of crazy without adding in a weird crackhead on top of everything."

"Speaking of which," Willow said brightly, handing Mel a huge handful of pills, "isn't it great that Mom's been gone all day?"

"Stop trying to change the subject," Mel said, taking the pills as well as a glass of water.

"I'm not. Look, I'll never see him again. Just let me... enjoy the memory of him. I'm not even kidding when I say he was beautiful."

Mel groaned, almost choking on one of the pills. "A beautiful crackhead!"

Willow laughed and leaned back into the couch. "Why are you so convinced he's a crackhead? He could be a pothead or a tweaker. Or just a confused, hungover, handsome tourist from England who could have made an excellent first boyfriend. Or at least first kiss."

"We don't get tourists. Especially none from England. And you said he glared at you like he wanted to kill you where you stood."

Willow paused. "His eyes were _really_ green."

Mel flung herself back and threw her arms over her face. "Save me Jesus."

Willow giggled and then faltered at the sound of a key jiggling in the knob of the front door just across from the living room. She looked at Mel and muttered, "Wonderful."

A moment later, the door opened and a short, unhealthily thin woman walked inside, dressed in baggy clothes and carrying an outdated purse in her bony hands. Graying brown hair framed her gaunt face in a feathered bob that she hadn't updated since the 80's, but all anyone saw when they looked at her were dim, dull blue eyes and cheekbones that were too sharp.

Kayleigh ran to her grandmother as soon as she looked up and saw her, like she did every time the older woman came home, and it never failed to grate on Willow's nerves. Kayleigh didn't know any better, and didn't know that the woman deserved none of her affections.

"Hello, little baby!" Wendy cooed to the child in a baby voice as she scooped her up into her arms. It was a wonder that her arms didn't snap under Kayleigh's twenty five pounds.

"How was church, Mom?" Mel chirped, winking at Willow when she rolled her eyes out of their mother's view.

"It was great!" Wendy smiled broadly. "You both should have come with me!"

"... Or," Willow said, "you could have skipped church today and taken us to the grocery store. For food. Which we are running out of."

"We have plenty of food," Wendy muttered, putting Kayleigh down.

"I had to feed Kayleigh plain noodles today for lunch, Mom."

Wendy started up the staircase, heading to her sanctuary upstairs. She didn't spare any of them a glance as she replied, "God will provide."

Then she was gone, locked inside of a room she'd dubbed her "prayer room" as she usually was when she was home. Willow sank back into the couch and crossed her arms. "Yeah, God provided a car to go to the store and money to buy it. Instead she goes and listens to a quack preach every other day while we starve."

Mel sighed while Kayleigh cried at her grandma's absence. "When was the last time you ate, Willow?"

The younger girl had to think for a moment before she could even remember. "Last night."

Mel looked at her sister admonishingly. "Willow."

"What am I supposed to do?" Willow asked, holding out her hands helplessly. "She goes shopping once a month. You and Kayleigh have to have enough to get by. I'm the healthy one. I can take going with less."

"You're almost as thin as Mom is," Mel pointed out. "And I throw up half of what I eat anyway. Tell you what... I'll call Ray and see if he can bring some food by tonight."

Ray was Kayleigh's father and on again/off again presence in both the baby and Mel's lives. Willow despised him and thought him a loser for coming and going as he pleased and barely helping to support Kayleigh, but she was in position to argue with Mel. "Okay."

* * *

Ray ended up coming through, and he brought by a veritable feast for the girls, unbeknownst to their mother, who was holed up in her room as usual. Afterwards, it was the same as every night - Mel took another fistful of pills, went to sleep on the couch downstairs, and Willow took Kayleigh upstairs to sleep with her. This had been the arrangement since Mel had moved back home, on too many prescriptions to safely sleep with anyone else, let alone a child. Then, once Kayleigh was asleep, Willow would stay awake for awhile, occupying her time with whatever she could, until she fell asleep for a few hours and then awoke to start a new, rather bleak day.

Tonight, she decided to pull out her collection of smuggled and hidden books - her mother banned such things of "worldly influence" five years ago - to choose one to read for the umpteenth time. She had a whole host of hidden things in her room that her mother would have thrown away in a second if she'd ever found them, but luckily, she hadn't.

Her books were among her most valued secret possessions, most of which were historical non-fiction, a lot of biographies and stories of both domestic and foreign wars. It was heavy subjects for a young girl but a love of history was one of the few things she'd inherited from her father. Then there was her music, which consisted of a barely-functioning CD player and less than twenty CDs. One of her most prized possessions, a tiny AM/FM radio that she had stolen from a store at the age of thirteen - an act she refused to be ashamed of, considering the severity of her homelife - sadly had been broken for the last year. Mel had asked Ray a long time ago to bring her a new one, but he never had. Willow had no clue what was going on in the outside world now, having no access to even newspapers, and her ignorance drove her nuts. But there was little she could do about the matter, having no money, no driver's license, and no friends to help get her either thing.

She chose a thick book on the strategies of the Axis powers - hardly a relaxing read, but this was the book she'd reread the least amount of times - and settled down by her window to read it.

She tried to read a few lines but couldn't focus, eventually letting her eyes drift off to the dark world outside. She'd been staring out of this same window for her whole life, staring at the same couple of rooftops of neighboring condos, a few trees and a barely visible road every day and every night for years. Nothing ever changed besides the neighbors and the leaves of the trees, and those were inconsequential.

Once upon a time, she had dreamed of the day that Mel would come and take her away to live with her. Then Mel's illnesses had taken a turn for the worse, she had lost the ability to work or drive, and ended up back home.

She sighed and tossed the book down, deciding to try for an early bedtime, when an odd gleam caught her eye from outside, towards the ground. She had to stand on the tips of her toes to get a good look, but when her eyes focused on the shine, she recognized it to be hair. Black, long hair, moving slightly in the breeze, belonging to a familiar stranger. Who was simply standing there. Staring at a tree.

She watched, fascinated and confused, as he continued to just stare at the rather uninteresting tree, and after she'd watched long enough to classify herself as a creeper, an idea presented itself.

Could she be so daring? Wendy was in just the next room, and getting out of the front door downstairs quietly enough to slip by undetected would be a challenge.

Mel's words reverberated through her head - _Crackhead! Psycho! Alien!_ - and she knew this wasn't her best idea ever, but in her defense, she hadn't done anything even mildly fun or reckless in a very, very long time. Clearly the guy needed some help, and helping was what she did best.

And his eyes had been _very_ green.

Maybe that whole "I'm going to murder you if you don't get out of my face" look of his had been all in her imagination.

She grabbed her coat out of her closet and did her best to be as quiet as a ninja as she slipped out of her room and out of the house.

* * *

The pitiful, empty house he'd been sitting in all night was freezing. He needed a fire, but when he tried to ignite one in the house's fireplace with his mind, nothing had happened. On top of that, he was starving - literally, horribly, terribly starving, as if he hadn't eaten in days, but he could conjure no food. And now, as he glared at a tree made of wood that could bring him blessed heat if only he could figure out a way to harvest the wood and then manage to actually set fire to it, he was ready to explode again.

He couldn't figure out if he was mortal or not - though the crippling hunger and lack of immunity to the cold seemed to indicate that he was - and he felt like a fool. He was aware of how Thor had bumbled about on Earth when he'd been cast out, acting ridiculous and bringing huge amounts of attention to himself, and he refused to repeat such childish mistakes. He would make this work. He would survive, and thrive, and prove to Odin that not even his unimaginative punishments could hold the great Loki back from...

"Aren't you cold?"

Loki's eyes turned slowly from the tree to the familiar voice. He recognized the shine of long auburn hair under the moonlight, knew her as the woman from earlier with the child. Who was this girl who dared to approach and speak to him twice?

She stared at him with something like curiosity in her eyes, no fear, no recognition.

"What are you... doing, exactly?" she asked.

"My actions are none of your business, little girl."

She seemed a bit bewildered by his reply. "I... I'm sorry. I just saw you from my window and thought I'd see if you needed help with something."

He scoffed, further offending her. "I need no one's help."

He expected, and hoped, for her to turn and walk away, but she did not. Instead, she spoke again, this time in a mutter. "Well, it doesn't really look that way."

He looked at her again, his expression turning from annoyed to angry, but she averted her eyes as soon as his own met them. Then she cleared her throat and put her hands into the pockets of her coat, and looked up at him again, shyly.

Then, something clicked. He recognized that look she had in her eye, he was no stranger to it, and a brilliant idea came to him. He was willing to wager that with a very small amount of charm and perhaps a few smoothly spoken words and a falsely sincere smile or two, this little moronic Midgardian female would tend to his needs without so much as blinking.

He might despise her as much as he despised the rest of her pathetic species, but she'd make a perfectly good servant. Of course she would - she, and all humans, had been born to serve.

Like a flipped switch, the malice left Loki's eyes, and he smiled warmly. Well, as warmly as he could with chattering teeth. "Forgive me. I merely seem to be quite out of place here and, as I'm sure you can see, have run into a few difficulties."

She smiled back, again seeming to have a hard time making eye contact, and he felt quite pleased with himself.

"It's fine," she shrugged with a slightly goofy smile. "Is there... is there something I can help you with?"

Loki paused for a moment before replying, "Would you happen to have a bit of food to share?"

Her smile faltered, and he decided that if she said no, he'd hurl her into the stupid tree in front of him and crack open her skull. He was _that_ hungry. "I... well, I don't have much. My mom... she's... well, I can go look and see what I could find."

His smile widened. "Only if it's of no trouble to you. I do not wish to inconvenience you, Miss..."

"Willow," she chirped, a blush visible on her cheeks even in the dim light of the moon.

"Willow," he repeated, and the name rolled off his tongue like silk. Odin may have limited his powers and left him with the strength of a mere mortal, but one thing nobody could ever take from him was his silver tongue.

She stared a bit stupidly at him for a moment before blinking and then stammering, "Right. I'll... be right back. Wait - where am I bringing you the food? Out here?"

He gestured to the empty house behind him. It was next door to Willow's. "Bring it there. I'll be inside waiting."

She seemed confused by this, but turned and headed back to her house anyway. Loki rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth.

_Ridiculous, stupid, naive human_, he thought as he stomped back to the empty house. _Just as gullible and easily deceived as all the rest of them._

* * *

Willow started going through the kitchen cabinets back at home as quietly and quickly as she could, having no idea what she was doing, knowing it probably wasn't smart, but she seemed to be operating on autopilot. Maybe it was the fact that tonight was the first that was out of her routine in months, the first interesting thing that had happened in longer than she could remember. And maybe the slightly rebellious nature of it was appealing too. If Wendy knew she'd been outside this late, conversing with a handsome stranger...

She found a couple of extremely old Twinkies, some stale crackers and peanut butter, and decided that was the best she could do for the man. Then she grabbed two bottles of water and headed towards the door, creeping past her slumbering sister on the couch, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

* * *

Loki's whole body was shaking from the chill by the time he heard a faint knock on the door. He walked stiffly to it and opened it, cursing the girl for taking so long, but faking a smile when her hazel eyes met his once more.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside. She walked in and looked around, her initial smile fading to confusion once more as she turned and gave him an odd look.

"Did you just move in?"

"Yes," he lied. "I am... unable to move my belongings in for a bit."

"And you don't have any electricity?"

"Not yet," he replied, patience growing thin.

She continued to look at him strangely before holding out the few bits of food she'd brought to him. "Here. It was the best I could do. I don't have a lot of food."

"It is fine," he replied. "Thank you."

She watched him as he then plunked down to the floor and tore into the packaged, spear-shaped item first. She hesitantly sat down beside him, shivering despite the coat on her back, and watched in fascination as he all but inhaled the food and yet managed to do it gracefully and... elegantly.

"This - what is this morsel called?" Loki asked, gesturing to the empty Twinkie wrapper.

"It's... a Twinkie," she replied somewhat dully. "Don't tell me you've never had one before."

"Twinkie?" he repeated._ Midgardians and their foolish names_. "No, I have not. They do not have... _Twinkies_... where I come from."

"They didn't have them in England?" she asked. He gave her a look, and she quickly said, "Your accent. I just assumed..."

"Yes. Yes, you would be correct."

He started in on the second Twinkie, which he ate even faster, finding it to be utterly delectable if not a bit crude, as she continued to stare at him. He stared back, controlling his urge to snap at her to get out of his sight now that she'd served his purpose, but then he saw her shoulders tremble, and an idea struck him.

He could only use his powers for the welfare of others. Time for another test.

He rose to his feet suddenly, crossing the room in a few strides, and then knelt in front of the fireplace. One moment and a minimal effort later, a fire was roaring, and heat was seeping through his skin at long last. He closed his eyes in relief and sat back on his heels, incredibly annoyed that it took having a shivering cold girl near him to be able to conjure heat.

When he returned to Willow's place on the floor to finish eating the food she'd brought, her astonished expression made him have to bite back a smug grin.

"How did you do that?"

He didn't answer her, not feeling the need to, and cracked open one of the water bottles. Midgardian water tasted like polluted filth, even this supposedly "purified" kind, but it would have to do.

"What's your name?"

She was full of questions. He hid his disdain for her incessant queries and replied after swallowing the water, "I am Loki." He refrained from adding in _of Asgard, God of Lies, boot to your ant._ Given what he'd done to Manhattan only days ago, best if he keep a low profile. In fact, maybe he should have given her a false name.

To his surprise, the girl cracked a smile. "Like the god? The Norse god?"

He furrowed his brows. "Norse? What do you mean by Norse?"

"Norse mythology," she replied. "Sorry - it's a cool name. Are your parents into mythology?"

He wanted to smirk and tell her that he _was_ her race's mythology, but he wasn't so foolish as to do that. He was not his dim-witted brother. "Yes, you could say that."

She stared at him like he was a great mystery of some kind, and surely to her feeble mind, he was. She'd seen him in the field after his fall and had just watched as he'd conjured a fire without so much as a log or a match. What would one of her simple nature think him to be?

"Are you a witch?" she suddenly asked. Then she frowned and added, "Or wizard, I guess? Warlock? Whatever a male witch is called?"

He did smirk this time, as he chewed on a cracker, but didn't answer. She continued to ramble. "My mom thinks witches are real. I never have. But if she'd just seen you do that with the fire, she would probably call her church friends and plan a stake burning at dawn."

He gave her a look that told her that he didn't understand. She took her index finger and circled her temple with it. "My mom's crazy."

"Ah."

"Actually," Willow smiled, "just the long black hair would be enough for her to decide that you're a devil worshipper."

He was tiring of her rambling, and he had no desire to learn what exactly a "devil worshipper" was. She'd served her purpose, fed him and enabled him to warm himself, and he no longer had a use for her.

He rose to his feet, and Willow did the same. "Thank you for your kindness and generosity, Miss Willow. You may now return to your home."

"Oh... yeah, I probably should, it's pretty late." She smiled nervously, and he took the moment to analyze her.

She was not short and not tall, not what he'd call fair and not revolting either. She was pale and had a smattering of light, not overly noticeable freckles under her eyes, eyes that he noted were a mix of colors. He saw green and a bit of a golden honey-ish hue near the pupils, and for a moment it reminded him of the colors he would be wearing right now has he not been cast down to this pitiful realm.

Her long hair appeared darker than it really was in the flicker of the firelight, and all in all, if he was going to have a servant, he was at least grateful that she wasn't a revolting cow like so many of her kind, even if she was as unintelligent as the rest. And, as he'd proven tonight, she was easily manipulated, and that was the most important thing.

"Well... goodnight," she smiled before trudging past him and heading towards the door. His eyes fell to the fireplace, and with each step she took, the fire began to dim and fade.

The door closed behind her and she left, taking the warmth with her and leaving Loki back where he'd began -freezing to death in a chilling pool of his own anger.

* * *

When Willow got back inside of her own house and closed the door behind her slowly and quietly, she turned and began tip-toeing up the stairs. What a bizarre night, and even stranger man - named after a Norse god, holed up in a house she knew he wasn't really renting with no furniture, no electricity and no heat, and who had never even had a Twinkie until tonight. He spoke strangely too, and how on earth had he started that fire?

Suddenly a hiss from the living room stopped her mid-ascension.

"Willow!"

She stepped backwards down the stairs and met her sister's wide blue eyes with a guilty grin.

"Where were you?"

Willow pointed to the front door with her thumb and whispered, "... Next door."

"Nobody lives next door."

Willow paused, Mel stared at her warningly, and with a suppressed giggle, the younger girl bounded down the stairs and plopped down on the couch next to her sister.

"Okay. His name is Loki, and -"

"Whose name?"

"The crackhead!" Willow replied impatiently.

"I knew this had to be about the crackhead!" Mel half-exclaimed.

"Yeah, yeah," Willow waved her off. "Well, he's not a crackhead. I think he might be... gosh, you're gonna think I'm crazy."

"I already think you're crazy, and I'm going to kick your butt anyway. So spit it out."

Willow looked up at her sister and bit her lip. "I think..."

Suddenly, Willow imagined what she'd sound like if she said what she really did think. She thought of her mother raving on and on about demons and witchcraft, conspiracy theories and paranoia, and Willow suddenly became aware of how truly ridiculous her own thoughts truly were.

She probably just hadn't seen the wood sitting in the fireplace, and he must have been quick with the match.

He probably really was just a crazy homeless guy. Maybe one on a really long acid trip.

"I think he really is an English tourist."

Mel torturously closed her eyes and shook her head. "I really need to get you out of the house more."

**A/N: aaaaand what do we have here? Why, it's another Loki-falls-to-earth-after-the-Avengers-and-meets-a -girl story! What makes this one different from the others, you ask? Two things - firstly, I'm writing it, and secondly, this story is based on a dream I had earlier this year (ugh, I'm just going to ignore that I'm taking a page out of Stephenie Meyer's playbook there :/)I also believe it will be different because I don't plan on turning Loki into some boring good guy - he's insane, he's a jerk, and that's why I love him, so he's gonna stay that way. :p This story has actually been in progress for months, but I've been sitting on it because I tend to, to my shame, not always stick with things that I start. But that's not the case this time, so I'm throwing caution to the wind and posting it. Also, this story is completely AU - as of right now, it will not follow the events of Thor: The Dark World, unless I decide that there's a way to weave it into the story believably, but I won't know that until I see the movie next month (squeeee). So for now, it's AU. Also, the rating - I'm setting it at M now because it'll get there soon enough, my stories always do lol. Anyway, thank you for reading and please do review, whether good or bad. I value any and all feedback, especially as this is my first non-oneshot foray into the Avengers fandom. Speaking of which, expect to see plenty of the Avengers in the coming chapters. :) Okay, shutting up now (finally). :D **


	3. Chapter 2

It was in the midst of another nightmare that Loki awoke early the next morning, curled up against the wall of the empty living room and shivering violently. The autumn night had grown terribly cold overnight, and with no heat and nothing to protect his skin other than the thin clothing he'd been left with, the cold had prevented him from having any sort of satisfying sleep. And when he did manage to doze off here and there throughout the night, he was subjected to more bloody, miserable visions of carnage and death that he'd caused.

Now awakened by the risen sun, Loki got to his feet, seething, and stomped off to the bathroom. Thankfully, the plumbing at least worked in this primitive shack, but that was little consolation when he was freezing and starving to death.

After he used the bathroom, he lingered in front of the sink for a moment, staring at his reflection in the small mirror above it. He was sporting a few new cuts on his face from his fall yesterday, and his hair needed a comb ran through it before it turned into one large, sprawling tangle at the nape of his neck. He needed to bathe, needed to eat, and needed to figure out what to do about his situation besides sitting around and being angry about it.

At the thought of food, his mind drifted to the impressionable girl who lived next door, the one who called herself Willow. Surely he could swindle some more food out of her, but first, he decided, he must clean up.

He stepped towards the woefully small, utterly unappealing shower, and eyed what he assumed was the water spout and controls. _Pathetically primitive_, just like everything else on Midgard, he mused as he started fumbling with the knobs.

Almost instantly, the knobs came off in his hand, and it wasn't due to a sudden burst of his inhuman strength, because he still only had the strength of a mortal. It was due merely to poor craftsmanship and probably rust, and it left him with little choice but to wash as best as he could in the tiny bathroom sink.

He threw the offending knobs into the tub with a loud clamor and then turned sharply, controlling his urge to trash the whole building. If he'd been at his full strength, he could have brought down the whole building - and the others attached to it - with very little effort. But as it was, his fist flying into the mirror left him with only minimal destruction to the mirror and a handful of blood.

He cursed at the pain - ridiculously enhanced in his mortal form - and let out a growl of anger, feeling stupid and worthless and the least like himself that he'd ever felt.

* * *

Mornings in Willow's house went by quietly and identically every day. Mel would sleep in late, until around noon, and Wendy would rouse quite early, usually around six, but would not have any sort of meal until about the same time that Mel would wake. That left Willow and Kayleigh to themselves, and as Kayleigh would normally awaken around 8, this would constitute the most peaceful part of Willow's day.

Kayleigh was not a difficult child to take care of by any means, not even with her disability, but she was starting to despise the lackluster menu that Willow could scrounge up. Breakfast had been the same for the last week - old packs of plain instant oatmeal she'd found buried in the back of a cabinet - and at the sight of yet another bowl of it, Kayleigh threw it off of her high chair with a scowl.

Willow sighed sympathetically, unenthusiastically poking at her own oatmeal with a fork, and then set it aside to pick up Kayleigh's bowl. When Wendy eventually emerged later on in the day, Willow was going to have to plead with her to finally buy some damn groceries. They were literally down to the bare scraps, and with Wendy in control of the family's finances - Willow didn't have a cent in her own possession, let alone a bank card of her own - Willow couldn't even give Mel's sometimes-companion Ray some cash to buy them some. Beyond that, the closest grocery store was an hour's drive away, so grabbing Wendy's wallet and walking somewhere was out of the question.

"Sorry, Kayleigh," Willow sighed, setting the oatmeal back down in front of the upset toddler. "Best I can do."

A knock at the door then made her nearly jump out of her skin. Visitors were highly rare, besides Ray, and he never showed up this early. None of Wendy's church friends ever even paid visits.

She pulled Kayleigh out of the high chair and walked out of the dining room, creeping past the living room where Mel was still sleeping soundly, and peered out of a window next to the front door. She jerked back as soon as she saw who was outside of the door - the crazy guy holed up next door, "Loki", looking slightly angry at first glance.

He knocked again, and she bit her lip - her first instinct was to ignore him, knowing that realistically, he really couldn't be anything but bad news. Then she snuck one more glance out of the window, and noticed that his hand was bleeding.

_Gosh, what now?_ she wondered, ignoring her instinct and opening the door, trying not to cringe too badly at her rather lackluster appearance. Pajamas and knotted-up hair wasn't how she would have chosen to greet the most likely insane but undeniably hot quasi-neighbor.

She saw disturbingly hard anger in his green eyes before they met hers, and then it was gone in an instant, replaced by a friendly smile. "Good morning. I apologize if I am disturbing you -"

"No, not at all," she quickly stammered, her eyes falling to his bloody hand. "What happened to your hand?"

"Accident," he shrugged. "May I... use your facilities?"

She stared at him for a moment and then blinked. "Oh! Um... yeah, I guess so, but be really quiet - like seriously just whisper, because my mom will kill me if she finds out I let a guy in the house."

He smiled - _gosh, that smile_ - and said, "Thank you very much, you are very gracious."

Willow grinned despite herself and stepped aside to let him in, glancing towards the living room to make sure Mel was still asleep. She was. "Bathroom's right there."

He followed her hand's gesture with his eyes, then gave Kayleigh a blank look that didn't get past Willow's notice. She cleared her throat and said, "There's some antibiotic cream and bandages under the sink, I think."

He nodded, looking away from the child then. "Right. Thank you."

She quickly put a finger over her lips then. "Quiet, remember? She'll seriously kill me."

"Of course," he whispered, and she couldn't see the traces of irritation that he hid so well from her before he walked to her bathroom.

He closed the door behind him and she looked at the little child on her hip, who looked merely mildly curious, and then glanced towards the living room again. Mel was still asleep. She hoped that Wendy hadn't heard the strange masculine voice belonging to the stranger, nor the front door opening and closing, from her place upstairs inside of her room.

Willow let Kayleigh down and watched as she scampered off to find some of her toys, then listened to the sound of the faucet running inside of the bathroom. She didn't know how long she listened until it shut off and then the door opened, a slightly less haggard-looking Loki emerging, wearing a concerned expression.

"I am sorry to continue to test your hospitality, but... is there somewhere in this house where I might bathe?"

She swallowed a dry, odd lump in her throat at this question, and then nodded. "Yeah, upstairs. Is the shower next door not... working?"

He shook his head. "If it were, I would certainly not be asking you such an embarrassing favor."

She smiled and shook her head. "Not embarrassing at all. Come on, I'll show you upstairs. But remember - stay completely silent."

He nodded solemnly - a bit too solemnly. "You have my word."

* * *

Willow sat down on the floor, playing absently and half-heartedly with Kayleigh, staring at her sister's sleeping form with wide eyes. To an outsider, it may have appeared to be a slightly odd sight, but Willow was merely willing Mel awake. With every ounce of her being.

She was caught in between the urge to wake her up immediately and the knowledge that she really did need her sleep, as sick as she was. But the slightly more selfish side of her won out.

She gave Mel a shove on her shoulder. "Melody! Wake up!"

Mel's blue eyes popped open almost instantly. "Wh - huh?"

"Wake up!"

"Did you really just call me Melody?"

"Too bad!" Willow snapped. "There is... Mel, listen to me - there is a man upstairs in the shower. _Naked_."

Mel furrowed her brows and closed her eyes, then rubbed them with a thumb and middle finger. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Loki, upstairs, naked," Willow clarified, eyes wide.

"Ugh!" Mel protested, pulling her thin wool blanket up over her face. "It's too early to talk about him... but why is he in our shower?"

"... Because he asked to take one," Willow replied.

"Right..." she groaned through the blanket. "Willow, I am going to kick your butt so hard you'll be walking with a limp for the rest of your life."

"I know, I'm stupid!" Willow half-wailed as Mel resignedly threw the cover off and sat up on the couch. "But his hand was bleeding, and -"

"He was bleeding?" Mel repeated incredulously. "You let a bleeding guy into the house? Around my baby? What if he had hepatitis or HIV?"

"I'm sure he doesn't -"

"Oh my God," Mel groaned, getting to her feet. "He's gotta go. I'm going to go take my pills and then kick him out. Then I'm going to kick your ass."

* * *

The water pressure was terrible, the shampoo he was forced to use smelled like some ghastly mix of berries, and he nearly slipped and fell on the primitive flooring multiple times, but Loki did manage to make it out of the shower alive and in an only slightly worse mood than he'd started out in. He imagined it would be rather difficult for his mood to substantially worsen anyway, given the general state of things.

He held true to his word to be quiet, padding gently around the bathroom as he dried off - with a peach-colored towel, as terribly undignified as that was - and was silently seething to himself when whispers outside of the bathroom door got his attention.

The door had no lock, so it swung open without any difficulty. He turned, clad only in the horrible peach towel wrapped around his waist, and watched as an angry looking young woman burst in. Willow followed behind her, the child in her arms as well, and she whispered, "Mom's gonna hear you, Mel!"

"She's not gonna hear shi -"

Both girls fell quiet as they stared at the half-naked man in front of them, and Loki hadn't lost enough of his wits to keep him from being highly amused by the dumbfounded looks on their faces. He leaned casually against the sink behind him and raised an eyebrow. "See something you like?"

Mel rolled her eyes and dragged Willow into the bathroom and closed he door behind her. "My name's Mel. My little sister has lived an incredibly weird, sheltered life, and I'm guessing that's why she keeps letting you con her into helping you, but I'm putting a stop to it now."

His slightly cocky expression faded into an instantly humble, kind one. "I mean no harm, I've merely... come upon some difficult circumstances, and -"

"I don't give a shit about your circumstances," Mel snapped. "Stay away from my sister and my house. Get dressed and get out."

Mel then opened the door and left, dragging Willow with her, but not before Willow gave Loki an apologetic look and mouthed the word "sorry". The door closed and Loki almost smirked - he already despised Willow's sister, but at least she had some spark to her.

He also had the feeling that Willow wouldn't mind breaking her sister's new rule and continue to help him where she could. Especially after the way she'd gaped at his half-naked form.

He turned back towards the sink and stared at his reflection in the small mirror above it, grateful that at least Odin had left him with his good looks intact. He doubted they'd ever fail to serve him well.

* * *

Downstairs, Willow bit her lip nervously as Mel started rummaging around the kitchen for something to eat that wouldn't send her diabetes into hyperdrive. She was almost out of insulin and was having to ration her shots, so she couldn't really afford to eat a bowlful of carbs in the form of oatmeal. Unfortunately, she was coming up short.

"This sucks!" Mel groaned as she opened the fridge and looked around it's mostly bare contents. There was a carton of eggs with one little lone egg left, bottles of condiments, and a pack of hot dogs. That was about it, besides her little bottle of insulin in the door of the fridge. She slammed the door shut then and wheeled around to glare at nothing. "She needs to go frigging grocery shopping."

"You know Mom," Willow said, standing near the kitchen sink while Kayleigh wandered around with a pink toy dog. "Only goes grocery shopping on every other Monday at four. Unless its raining. Then she waits another two weeks."

"Yeah, well, it's Tuesday, so we're gonna starve." Mel then winced and said, "I hate myself for not taking you to get your license before I lost mine. Then you could be working and making money and not... starving to death, stuck here all the time."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't be able to work anyway, because I help you with Kayleigh," Willow shrugged.

Mel sighed and turned back to her food search, and Willow nearly jumped when she heard a whisper from behind her.

She turned to find Loki around the corner against the wall of the dining room, clearly trying not to draw Mel'a attention to himself. Oh right, she thought, he hasn't left yet. "What?" she whispered.

"I am leaving in a moment," he said softly, "but I wondered if you could perhaps spare a bit of food."

She looked at him sympathetically before whispering back, "I really can't - we're down to almost nothing and my mom... my mom's the only one with money and a license and she's kind of crazy and never buys food because... well, because she's crazy."

He looked confused. "I do not -"

Suddenly, Willow shoved him into the bathroom that was sandwiched between the kitchen and living room, and she closed the door on him and stared nonchalantly at Mel as she left the kitchen and muttered, "Whatever, I just won't eat. Did crackhead leave yet?"

"Yep," Willow nodded. "Ducked out like five minutes ago."

"Good. I'm going to go see if he left any hot water," Mel said, trudging up the stairs.

"Okay," Willow said, watching and waiting for Mel to disappear from sight before opening the bathroom door again.

Loki looked furious, and she took a step back instinctively - he looked seriously dangerous for a split second, just before his expression changed into a blank, non-threatening one. Now that she thought of it, he seemed to do that a lot.

"What was the meaning of that?"

"Sorry," Willow said, blinking away her brief moment of fear. "I didn't really want to see my sister freak out again." When Loki said nothing and merely frowned at a wall across the room, she added, "But, anyway... I really don't have any food."

Then he stared at her for a moment, long enough to make her squirm a little and look away before he asked politely, "May I take a look at your kitchen?"

* * *

It was a brilliant idea that had just struck him. Surely this would work. It had to.

Loki didn't wait for an answer, strolling into the girl's kitchen with a renewed sense of purpose. It was a truly small, pathetic excuse for a kitchen, and he hid his disdain as he began looking around for food. Tasteless, bland, revolting Midgardian food...

He heard the girl chattering behind him about how she truly had little to no food, thanks to her mother, and he ignored her, though she turned out to be telling the full truth. How did these mortals survive on so little sustenance?

Then again, he looked at Willow, who was shifting and fidgeting as she watched him rifle through her cabinets, and he noted how thin the girl was. She didn't look terribly unhealthy but the arms he could see under the short sleeves of her pajama top were were bony, and a glance at her face showed cheeks that were clearly meant to be fuller than they were.

This only served his purpose even further.

Without a word, he turned his gaze away and opened up the refrigerator. He looked upon its lackluster contents and then focused on the nearly empty carton of eggs on the middle shelf.

His magic, always simmering under the surface and yet usually completely inaccessible now thanks to Odin, stirred within him as he felt the familiar flow of energy begin to take place. In a moment, the carton was full. He then duplicated it, bringing the supply from one egg to four dozen. Then he glanced at the pack of hot dogs, having no idea what the strange looking stick-shaped things were, and almost effortlessly transformed them into several packs of fat, bright pink steaks. He considered it only a marginal improvement, but he was a bit aware of the type of food Midgardians consumed due to his studies as a youth, and he figured it wise to keep the food familiar rather than turn Willow's kitchen into an Asgardian sampler.

He continued this process, of which Willow was oblivious, until her food supply was mostly replenished and considerably improved. He couldn't conjure food from nothing but he could transform existing food and multiply it.

Willow then watched in shock, a few moments later, as Loki reached casually into a cabinet and pulled out a handful of Twinkies that she knew full well had not been there before. Loki then turned and gave her a kind smile. "Thank you for your generosity, Willow."

"But I..."

"Thank you," he repeated, still smiling as he walked past her. She watched him go, looking on in confusion as he walked out the front door.

She then walked to where he'd been standing and peered into the cabinet, shocked to see a pile of more Twinkies sitting there. Next to them was a big box of chocolate chip cookies where there had been one lone pack of animal crackers before.

She wheeled around and opened up the fridge, her jaw falling to the floor when she saw it damn near brimming with food. _Good_ food. How long had it been since she'd had a steak?

She let go of the door handle and let the refrigerator close, staring with a flabbergasted look of shock and confusion on her face.

Who - and what - _was_ this guy?

* * *

While Loki sat next door and ate a balanced breakfast of Twinkies and stewed over ways to at least get out of this neighborhood and into an actual town, Willow grabbed Kayleigh and ran up to her room before commencing a search for a book she'd acquired years ago.

As happy as she was to not be starving anymore, at least for a week or two, she couldn't explain away what had just happened. Her mind was racing, remembering the odd words and phrases he'd used during her interactions with him - "Midgardian" stood out, as well as the way he'd seemed to conjure fire from nothing last night - and when she took his name into consideration as well, it all became too strange for her to comprehend.

She dug through her stash of books inside of her closet twice before she found the one she was after - a thick volume on Norse mythology that Mel had bought for her when she'd gone through a phase of being interested in mythology at the age of 14. She then quickly plopped down the floor and ripped the book open, her fingers shaking a little bit as she located the chapter on the god named Loki.

Kayleigh had located a purple crayon and began drawing on Willow's bedroom wall, but Willow was too engrossed in what she was reading to care. She scanned through the pages rapidly, stunned by what she found there and ending up even more confused than before.

The similarities between the fictional god of mischief and the man living next door were so far beyond eerie that she doubted there was a word to aptly describe it. He even _looked_ like the book's sketch of the god. And in reading the passages, she finally remembered where she'd heard "Midgardian" before - Midgard was another name for earth, used by other inhabitants of the "Nine Realms", including Asgard, which is where the fictional Loki hailed from.

And he _was_ fictional. To suggest anything else would be absurd. Even though the Loki she'd met yesterday appeared to have fallen out of the sky, have magical abilities, and fit every last purported trait - even the physical ones - of the god Loki.

Her mother was singing hymns alone in the room next to Willow's room, but she barely heard the sound at all. She was too busy deciding if she believed in aliens or not.

* * *

Next door, Loki finished his fried, doughy, cream-filled breakfast and sat back and reflected on how brilliant he was to find a loophole in Odin's curse. All he had to do was find a way to make his interests coincide with that of a mortal's, and then he could use magic to achieve his will. It was simple, really, and mortals were so easily manipulated - surely he would have no problem living comfortably with all of his needs tended to.

But as he enjoyed the feeling of satisfied hunger and plotted how to make decent use of the rest of the day, a slight, sharp pain took hold in his chest. At first he didn't think a lot of it, as slight as it was, but it steadily grew into an annoyance.

He rubbed absently at his chest, just near his heart, through his black shirt as the annoyance grew to significant pain. He furrowed his brows, gasping when the pain felt as if it was bursting open in his chest. He looked down, almost expecting to find blood pouring from an open cavity the way his chest was boiling and tearing with excruciating pain, but there was nothing, and no reason for the agony.

He gasped for air, barely able to breathe as the pain continued to get worse and worse, and he knew he would not be able to take much more. Panic began to set in, eclipsing his confusion, and then, just as he reached the point of being sure of his own impending, unavoidable death, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his world fell into the black.

**A/N: Roses are red, violets can be pink-y, Thor loves Pop Tarts and Loki loves Twinkies. I'm blaming the glass of wine I just drank for the fact that I just typed that :/ Anyway, thank you to everyone who's read this story so far, even more so to those who reviewed/followed. I feel a slight bit needier in this fandom, because it's far more active and larger than what I'm used to, so I feel the need to ask for reviews, not something I usually do. What can I say, I find Loki to be supremely intimidating to write. Anyway... thanks again for reading, see ya next week :D **


End file.
